


Warm Welcome

by cowboykylux



Series: Supreme Leader Kylo [14]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Come Shot, F/M, Hand Jobs, Public Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: If there was one thing you knew about Kylo Ren (and there were in fact, many), it was that he didn’t like to be kept waiting.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Series: Supreme Leader Kylo [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814410
Kudos: 26





	Warm Welcome

If there was one thing you knew about Kylo Ren (and there were in fact, many), it was that he didn’t like to be kept waiting.

You were always there, in the docking bay; chin high and backed by lines of troopers waiting his arrival, waiting to congratulate him on another successful mission. You practically glittered, gems dripping down your arms and neck, pinned into your hair just the way you knew he liked. He liked seeing you done up, liked putting the wealth of the galaxy on display on your body.

You were always there because you knew if you weren’t, he’d go looking for you, and in the past he had killed too many troopers in his anxious wake to get to you, wrecked too many panels out of sheer pent up energy and tension.

So you waited for him, because he didn’t like to wait for you – but even still, he was impatient. 

He had just landed, the ship docked and hydraulics hissing. You were already smiling, so fond of him, in love with him. The hydraulics hissed some more and the ramp opened with a great cloud of steam and there he was, his heavy boots clanging on the metal floor as they stomped right towards you. 

Kylo was backed by a dozen troopers, their white battle armor scarred and dirty, but all dozen had returned, and you knew congratulations were in order. 

“Supreme Leader,” You said, not shying away from putting as much affection into your voice as you possibly could, “Welcome home.” 

He was wearing the helmet, because of course he was, but you could tell he was stuck in a scowl, could tell by the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the way his shoulders were rigid and square. Could tell by the way he reeked of sweat and ozone and blood.

“You’re here.” The words are harsh and static through the vocoder, but you smiled just the same. 

“Of course I’m here. Shall we retire to our quarters?” You asked, taking one of his big gloved hands and pressing the palm to your cheek, kissing the leather. 

He watched you for a moment, watched you press kisses to the palm of his hand right in front of nearly forty people. He turned his head sharply to look at them all through the visor, before snapping out a harsh, “Dismissed.” 

You always liked watching the troopers scatter, try and outdo one another for who could clear the vicinity fastest at your man’s command. 

He was on you in an instant, strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You pressed yourself as close to him as you could get, the metal from your jewelry digging into your skin through your soft black robes. 

He was hard, of course he was hard, he was always hard for you, you thought with a smile. You wanted to feel just how hard. 

“You know what to do.” Crackled through the vocoder, you always liked it when he read your mind. 

You grinned.

You pulled away just enough to take his gloved hand and lead him across the docking bay, where you could push him up against a wall and get your hand down his trousers. Your quarters would have to wait, it seemed – _impatient_. 

The thunk of the helmet hitting the metal wall echoed through the empty bay, and you went right to work wrapping your fingers around that cock of his, pressing your thumb to the slit, making him groan. 

“Kriff – ” He panted, as you stroked him off. 

He was hot and heavy in your hand, you pulled the waistband of his trousers down just enough to get his cock all the way out. You sucked on your own fingers, wet them enough so it wouldn’t chafe, and worked on building a steady rhythm that you knew would bring him over the edge quickly. 

His cock drooled for you, dripped all over himself, and you spread it down his shaft to join your spit, a slick wet sound the only thing to be heard aside from your combined breathing and curses. 

While your hands went to work, you kissed his mouthplate, sloppy wet open mouthed kisses that fogged up the metal. In the beginning you had wished he would show his handsome features more often, but you liked the way you were the only one who got to see him like that – the only one who got to taste him.

He was grunting and groaning underneath your touch, but it only registered as sharp static. His hands were all over you, squeezing at your tits, pressing against your throat, fisting in your hair. 

“I’m going to fuck you so well you won’t walk for three days.” He hissed, when you twisted your hand and had his hips bucking up into your touch.

“You better, I missed you while you were gone – don’t go away for that long again.” You breathed against his helmet, made out with the now warm metal.

“I won’t.” He lied. You smiled. 

You could feel him getting more and more wound up, his stomach tensing in that way of his, and you dropped to your knees, mouth open just in time for him to come all over you, your lips, your cheeks, your chin. 

“Clean up.” He said, baritone voice smooth as honey from his orgasm, smearing the come on your face into your mouth with those big thick fingers. 

You couldn’t _wait_ for him to return the favor. 


End file.
